


you got hell to pay but you already sold your soul

by Tator



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Light Smut, M/M, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, Soulmarks, Soulmates, be prepared for these italics folks, courting, light Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8775169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tator/pseuds/Tator
Summary: “I, uh, I had a mate--a soulmate,” he muttered quietly, and suddenly the room fell silent. No one seemed to even take an inhale after his little confession. “It’s obviously been a long time since then. It was back before the- back then.” He felt a burning behind his fifth rib, and tried not to remember the loving feeling of fire that came with it. (He could still remember how to drown. But the burning from the ice was never quite the same.)
or the one where Steve had a soulmate and then didn't but kinda always did





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you bunches to my lovely betas [wearing_tearing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing) and [idreamtofreality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idreamtofreality/pseuds/idreamtofreality)! They turned this grammatical disaster into something legible! And also a huge shout out to [The_Crafty_Cracker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Crafty_Cracker/pseuds/The_Crafty_Cracker) for giving me moral support and helping me get the confidence to post this fic! You are the bomb.com, chica
> 
> Song title from Blasphemy by Bring me the Horizon

They say you can bind your soul with whomever you wanted as long as you gave them your mark. Soulmates. Soulmarks. That sort of business. It was some deep magic that anyone could do, if they were willing to. Steve realized pretty quickly that in this new century people didn’t give marks away. It seemed to be reserved for royalty and the rich, those who benefitted from long term relationships, the type you can’t run away from. Marks still happened, though. People still gave them to each other, if they were sure-- if they knew this person was it. It just wasn’t as common is all. It was more of an old time myth.

( _Steve still remembered when he gave away half of his everything, when he decided to share his soul with another person. The blinding love that poured into his veins the second a mark was given to him was so overwhelming that he thought this was what drowning felt like. It was ironic really. Later he really did learn what drowning was like, and he never could really figure out when he came up for air, if he did at all._ )

***

It happened at a meeting. No, it happened six months earlier. ( _Shit_.) It had been happening for six months and Steve didn’t even fucking know.

Bucky was back in one piece, physically at least, months- years really- after the fiasco in DC. He decided it was about time that he came home to Steve and got the help he needed to be a full person again. Steve felt like he could cry, but he didn’t. Because that wouldn’t be very productive, he told himself. It would weird Bucky out, maybe scare him off ( _again_ ). He had to keep his cool if this was going to work at all.

They stayed in the Tower, had been there for a few months now. It seemed best that they be around the most trained super heroes in the world if Bucky were ever to go back into Winter Soldier mode, not that he would, but if. They had all been so supportive of the entire thing. Sure, there was some hesitation in the beginning. They all had to agree unanimously to have the world’s most deadly assassin live with them while trying to tie together his puzzle of a brain, so of course, Steve waited patiently for their answer. And they finally agreed. ( _Steve nearly cried then, too. But he didn’t. Keep your fucking cool._ )

It was good to be around friends. Even Sam would drop by every now and then, which was nice. Really nice. Really, really, really nice. Bucky sometimes went into nonverbal modes. He wouldn’t talk for days on end, and when he started back up again, it would be words or short phrases. “Steve.” “Door.” “Food.” “Out.” It was nice to have someone to talk to after all of that. ( _Steve sometimes felt agitation edging from the back of his mind when people weren’t understanding Bucky, but he couldn’t ever figure out if it was his agitation or not. It was probably both he decided._ )

Bucky had even been cleared for solo missions for a few weeks now. It made Steve sick with worry sometimes, but he had to let him go. He had to. It was Bucky’s choice. Steve knew that no one should be making decisions for Bucky anymore. So Bucky went. Because he wanted to. And Steve tried to stay busy while also trying to not freak out at home waiting for him. It was strictly Hydra based missions, destroying bases, collecting Intel, things like that. That was all he was cleared for at the time when _it_ all went down.

Steve had just gotten back from training, fresh out the shower when it started. He didn’t think anything of it, and he was usually so careful is the thing. It was an honest mistake. Really. He didn’t mean to slip, but he walked out the shower in just his towel, heading down the hall to his room when he saw Bucky standing there, staring.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted with a smile. Bucky didn’t look up from where he was staring just to the side of Steve. Steve cleared his throat, now knowing what got Bucky into this trance. “Are you still going to game night with me?” Bucky nodded sharply, but didn’t look away from the spot. “Alright, I’ll be ready in a minute.” Steve walked down past him, and he watched as the other’s eyes still tracked him carefully down the hall. Steve had the suspicion that Bucky was staring at something on him, but he couldn’t think of a reason why. He forgot about it quickly enough. His fingers ghosted still over the mark on his ribs when he was getting dressed. He didn’t even notice he did it. 

Game night was a tradition in the Tower. If you were in town, you had to play. Those were the rules. Tony was the only one that was there every week, minus when he was away for full team missions of course. It was his house after all, but most everyone else made a very steady appearance, usually only missing a week a month or so. Tonight, it was a smaller group, Avengers minus Thor.

“Where’s Rhodes and Pepper?” Sam asked as he plopped down on the floor.

Tony shrugged. “They claim to have a real jobs. Nine-to-fives. You know, what real adults apparently have.”

“Hey,” Clint protested. “We have real jobs.”

“But they have realer jobs.” Everyone nodded at that, and suddenly Uno was brought out, and, with it, everyone’s competitive streak.

It was fun. It was always fun, Steve thought. He didn’t get to see them all together that much. Sometimes he didn’t see any of them. Missions would have most of them away, and sometimes you couldn’t get Tony out of the workshop if you tried. But game night- he always had game night.

Hours later into the evening, once everyone was buzzing on their drinks, someone always mentioned playing a game that people from this century thought they invented. They got talked into it by Tony as he said he really felt like he deserved to know more dirty secrets about everyone, and it wasn’t fair that they knew about all of his. Bruce mentioned then that maybe he shouldn’t put his secrets on the internet if he wanted to, like, have secrets. Tony scoffed. ( _That’s why Steve was sitting here pretending to listen to the rules of Never Have I Ever, when really he had played with Jacob Sullivan and Andrew Locksley back in grade school. That wasn’t important though._ )

“All right, so they say something they’ve never done, and if you have done it, you take a shot and put a finger down. First one to zero loses. Everyone understand? Freezer-burn, you with us?” Tony asked. He got a sneer in return, so he took that as a yes. “Alright, here we go.” He took out seven shot glasses and quickly poured what was probably whiskey in all of them. Natasha scoffed, commenting about how Americans didn’t know good liquor if it hit them in the face. “Birdie #1, if you will do us the honors.”

Clint cleared his throat before getting a spark in his eyes. “Never have I ever,” he started dutifully. “Learned to speak Russian.” Bucky and Natasha took a shot, both muttering curses at him in the mentioned language.

It moved onto Natasha. “Never have I ever,” she started before putting a finger to her chin. “Done any hard drugs.”

“Define hard drugs,” Tony requested.

“Anything worse than weed and X.” Bucky, Clint, and Tony took a shot. Steve looked over at Bucky and got a shrug in return.

“Never have I ever finished reading the book _Frankenstein_ ,” Bruce listed off, and it looked like only Bucky and Sam took a shot at that. Tony mumbled something about ‘goodie two shoes’ and ‘nerds’ and something else that Steve didn’t really understand.

“Never have I ever,” Sam said. “Jumped out of a plane without a parachute.” He grinned wickedly at Steve as he took his shot. Bucky mostly glared, and Steve gave him a similar shrug in return. But, in Steve’s defense, Bruce and Natasha both took shots, too. Neither one of them got glared at, which Steve thought was entirely unfair.

It went on for a few rounds more. Bucky seemed to be the worst off right now with two fingers left, but Clint and Natasha were both right behind him with three. Steve still had eight and realized why so many people thought he was a prude.

“Alright,” Clint slurred slightly, already having more than enough drinks. “Never have I ever wanted to mark someone.”

Steve took a shot without thinking about it, head whipping back quickly as the familiar burn dripped down his throat.

“Okay, Tony I get. Pepper, obviously. Boring, really. But, Cap, I’m hurt that you haven’t told us, your closest friends, about this information. What’s the story?” Clint poked him with his toe from where he was slouched on the couch.

Steve looked down to the bottom of his glass. He could feel a wave of confusion roll off of everyone or maybe just one in particular. “I, uh, I had a mate--a soulmate,” he muttered quietly, and suddenly the room fell silent. No one seemed to even take an inhale after his little confession. “It’s obviously been a long time since then. It was back before the- back then.” He felt a burning behind his fifth rib, and tried not to remember the loving feeling of fire that came with it. ( _He could still remember how to drown. But the burning from the ice was never quite the same._ )

“Was it Pe-“ Natasha kicked Tony in the leg. Steve poured himself another shot and downed it quickly trying to remember if the burn from the liquor was similar to the heat he felt in his spine the night he was marked. ( _It wasn’t._ )

Bucky was staring at him again, and all Steve wanted to do was go to sleep. He couldn’t seem to remember any affection that flowed through his veins before this century started but he could always remember freezing. It made him sick. He could remember the cold, never the warmth.

He left quickly after that with the dreadful sense of realization everyone seemed to get itching the back of his mind. He took the bottle. No one argued with him.

***

Clint came to him the next day. “Hey,” he started uncomfortably. “Buddy…” Steve almost flinched with how awkward that sounded. Some people never really got the hang of talking to him sometimes. ( _He was an icon. A legend. He was Captain America. And sometimes it still caught people by surprise that he lived a normal life sometimes like a normal person. Sometimes he was just Steve Rogers, and people didn’t know what to do with that._ ) 

“Bucky is at therapy right now,” Steve replied, sipping his coffee at the counter. “Should be back in an hour or two.” Clint and Bucky had become really good friends over these few months. Steve sometimes found them in the rafters together, sitting their quietly and not speaking. They seemed to understand each other pretty well. Steve didn’t know if it was the mind control thing or if it was the sniper thing. Possibly both.

“I actually came to talk to you,” Clint muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Steve felt his eyebrows raise. “Oh, uh, have a seat, then. What can I do for you?”

“So like, I know game night is totally sacred and I shouldn’t have lied,” Clint started, looking at his hands before his eyes flicked up to Steve. “But, I uh, lied.” Steve nodded his head, sipping his coffee. “Um, well you see, I actually have thought about asking someone to mate with me, but I didn’t want them to find out.”

“Natasha,” Steve mused.

Clint nodded. “Yeah, Nat, so I figured it would be easy to sorta find out if she thought about it, too. Because you aren’t supposed to lie during Never Have I Ever, but I guess that was a stupid thought because she could have lied. I mean I lied, and she has always been a better liar than me.” Clint looked up to Steve as if he could help him stop the rambling coming from his mouth.

“And you’re here because?”

“I had some questions,” Clint exclaimed. “About marking. I had questions about, like, if I asked her, and she said yes, like, what would happen?”

Steve swallowed the feeling of dread roughly, not wanting to delve into those memories. He knew that it would only cause him misery if he were to think about it too much, but Clint looked so hopeful that he just couldn’t say no. So he nodded.

“Well,” Clint rubbed his hands onto his thighs. “I mean, like, how does it work?”

“That’s pretty vague,” Steve chuckled. “And things have changed since I was mated, but the way in went back in the old days, I guess, is you would court someone for a while and then you would ask ‘em if they wanted your mark. If they said yes, you would give it to ‘em and usually get married. If they said no, they would sometimes get married anyways, just didn’t give soulmarks.”

“And by court you mean date?” Clint asked.

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, kind of. I mean, courting was about showing that you could provide for the other person. It was proving that if you two did end up together that you could take care of ‘em, but also that you wanted to, because you loved ‘em. It was pretty hard when I was growing up to prove that you could afford a family. Guys would talk up their jobs at the docks that paid fifty cents an hour, and stuff like that. You couldn’t walk down the street without hearin’ about how much someone could make with so little. The biggest come on to this day that I ever heard was a girl walked right up to this fella and said she could make a single can of beans stretch for two weeks.”

“Wow, gettin’ frisky,” Clint laughed.

“It was a different time back then. People worried about different things.”

“So what happened with you? I mean, like, how did you ask?”

“Uh,” Steve looked at the table. “I was asked, actually.”

“Peggy asked you?”

Steve shook his head. “It wasn’t Peggy.”

“You aren’t mated to Peggy?” Steve shook his head. “Then who?” Steve kept his eyes locked to the table. There were only ever two people Steve was ever close to from his past. Clint was a smart guy. He’s figure it out in Three...Two...One... “ _Oh_. Oh my god. Steve, I didn’t know.”

“No one does,” Steve muttered. “It’s kind of the point, really.” He tried to give him a weak smile, but he knew it came out more pathetic than anything. That dread came back steadily up his throat like bile.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” Clint said.

Steve nodded. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” ( _He really, really did mind._ )

Clint hesitated, but continued anyways. “Did it hurt? Getting the mark?”

Steve smiled. “No,” he shook his head. “Not in the slightest. I mean, they bite you, so that hurts a bit, I guess. But after that, I couldn’t describe it to you. It’s like standing next to a fire after a cold, and it’s like a strong drink after a bad day, and chocolate cake made from the 60 cent flour. It just hits the spot in a way. There’s really nothing like it.” Steve couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Where is yours?” Steve lifted up his shirt to show the round teeth print on his ribcage, and it looked like Clint wanted to reach out to touch it. In his defense, it wasn’t like a normal scar. Clint didn’t see any raised edges were scar tissue was supposed to be. He thought it looked less like a scar more like he was born with it. “Why there?”

“You just know where to put it, I guess. It takes a while, but when you’re about to mark someone, you know immediately where you want to. It’s special to you. Where you put it means something to you.”

“Where did you put yours?”

“It- It used… It was on the underside of the bicep. The me- the left one. Under the left bicep” Steve heard Clint swallow, and saw him look down. Steve closed and eyes and shook his head. “It’s fine, Clint. Really. What happened, happened. I can’t change it now. You can keep going.”

Clint hesitated, but nodded. His voice was a little softer when he continued. “Is it true that you can hear what the other is thinking? And that you know when they’re hurt and stuff?”

“It depends,” Steve relaxed a bit. “It really depends on the relationship. I don’t know anyone that can hear the other’s thoughts, but you can know what they’re feeling sometimes. I mean, my Ma would tell stories about how she knew when my Pa had a bad day the second it turned sour. So she would always cook up his favorite to make it not so bad. But, yeah, you know when they’re hurt. Um, some people feel it, feel the pain of it. Others can just, uh, know.”

“What do you feel?” Steve could tell that Clint immediately regretted the question, for good reason.

“Both,” Steve answered honestly. “If it’s bad enough, I feel the same pain, but otherwise, I just know that something bad happened.” ( _He knew what Clint wanted to know. He knew that he just wanted to ask if he felt the fall, if he knew what happened. He did. He did, and sometimes it was the only feeling he could remember from before._ )

“Do you think…” Clint rubbed his hands over his face. “Do you think if I ask Nat, I would be able to feel her pain?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s why I want to do it, you know. Every time she goes on another mission or she just disappears without a word, I just have no way of knowing if she’s hurt. I worry to death waiting for a call or something to tell me if she’s alright or… or if she’s not. I just-”

“You would know if she died,” Steve interrupted. Clint looked up with shock on his face. “You feel it, half your soul _dying_. You feel it in your gut and behind… and behind your sternum. It’s like you’ve been shot. The initial pain and shock are quick, but the suffering goes on for as long as you’re alive. You feel it and then you’re left wondering if it’s true--if it actually happened. So if you want to know if she’s hurt, you’ll know. You’ll know the second it’s over.” Steve felt burning behind his eyes, and quickly wiped the tears from his face. This was supposed to help Clint. This wasn’t a pity party. ( _Jesus, Steve, pull yourself together._ )

“It’s worth it,” Steve said once he took a deep breath. “I know it sounds terrifying, and makes you so vulnerable. And it is, and it does. You’re giving half of yourself to another person, so it should really. But it’s so worth it, no matter how long it lasts.”

They both heard the door close loudly, and Steve wanted to curse himself. Bucky wasn’t loud. He was only loud when he found it appropriate, so Steve knew he heard every word. Suddenly everything felt tight and uncomfortable. “Buck,” he called out. “Clint is here. Come say hi.” Bucky walked into the kitchen and grunted something at Clint. Steve couldn’t look him in the eye. Just got up to get another cup of coffee.

***

The first gift showed up a week later. Bucky had just got back from a mission somewhere in South America, and dropped a little box on the table in front of where Steve was sitting while on his way to the kitchen for his morning coffee. Steve looked at it for a second before opening it. It appeared to be a bar of chocolate. “What’s this?” Steve asked over his shoulder. He could hear Bucky purposefully shuffling around to get a mug.

“Peruvian chocolate,” he replied simply.

“Why?” Steve couldn’t help but ask.

He didn’t have to turn around to know Bucky shrugged. He did that a lot these days, especially when he would do something he was unsure he was allowed to do. “You like chocolate,” he said like he didn’t need another purpose for bringing Steve gifts.

Steve stood up, picking a piece of chocolate off the bar. He took a bite and could immediately taste the bitterness. He smiled. This was his favorite kind. Steve remembered telling Bucky one time while they were sitting on the roof of their old apartment building. He told Buck the story of how one of the little old ladies gave Steve some 90% chocolate after he brought in groceries for her, and he thought it was the best thing he ever tasted. Bucky remembered; after all this time, he remembered. Steve smiled again and felt his heart ache a little bit. “It’s good. Thank you,” Steve said as he leaned on the kitchen counter. Bucky was turned away from him, messing with the coffee machine. “Want some?”

“It’s for you,” Bucky said, like that was enough reason not to take some for himself. Steve didn’t push it.

The next gift he got was also a day after Bucky returned from a mission. This time it was oil paints from a small shop in Holland that still hand made them. Steve smiled immediately when he got them, but there was still that itch in the back of his head that asked why Bucky was giving these to him. It bothered him all the way until he smeared the first line of paint, knowing immediately which jawline was going to end up painted on the canvas.

He got little things here and there, trinkets of sorts. Candies, pencils, notebooks, pictures, spices, art replicas, jerkies, an easel once, and a cookbook another time. Bucky seemed to either give him art or food based things, but Steve wasn’t complaining. He liked both art and food, and he liked the fact that Bucky was starting to fill up the empty spaces in their apartment. It started to feel more like their home then.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Bucky stated as he dropped his latest gift into Steve’s hands before falling onto the couch. When he first got back, Bucky only sat in the chair near the corner. He was always so carefully strategic and bracing for the worst. Every single time someone came into the apartment, he would tense up ready for a fight. These days he sat on the side of the couch closer to door, always blocking Steve’s view when guests were coming into the apartment.

Steve opened the box to see an Oaxaca wood carving of an elephant. He smiled, already knowing he was going to put it next to the Thinker rendition on the bookshelf brought from a small village in Paris. “This is beautiful. Thank you,” Steve said before turning all the way to face Bucky. “Where should we go?”

“I know a place,” Bucky responded. “Seven.”

They ended up at a diner only a few blocks from the Tower. It was cute, Steve thought. It looked like it was modeled off of something from the 50’s with an old juke box and everything. ( _Not that Steve knew what the 50’s were like, but he’s seen enough movies and read enough books to make an educated guess._ ) They sat down in the back corner, Steve facing the door. “This is nice,” he said with a small smile as they sat. Bucky nodded. “How did you find it?”

“Food’s cheap. Nothin’ fancy like the stuff Stark eats. Good position between the old safe house and the Tower.”

“Why would that matter?” Steve asked before he could really think about what was coming out. He instantly wanted to stick his foot in his mouth.

Bucky gave him the same look that he would give him after cleaning up his knuckles. _Why are you such an idiot?_ it asked already knowing the answer. “I went to the Tower all the time,” he said simply.

“Why?” Steve wondered again, and continued to question why he wasn’t shutting the fuck up right about now. They hardly spent time alone these days- missions always swept them away from each other, and in the Tower it was so hard to find time where you weren’t surrounded by at least two other Avengers. ( _Can’t you just not fuck up this one night with him?_ )

“Checked up on you a lot.” Bucky shrugged. “You brought back memories.”

“You could sneak into the Tower?”

A slow grin spread across Bucky’s face. “I can get into anywhere, Котёнок, especially if they put you behind the door.” Steve could feel himself flush instantly.

“How’d you do it then?” Steve inquired, looking down.

Bucky shrugged, still smiling that smug grin. “Figured JARVIS wasn’t on every floor since he was a personal thing. Tony wouldn’t give his robot to just anyone. Scaled to those floors then found a way to yours. Checked up on you every now and then.”

Steve gaped. “You- You scaled the walls? They’re just windows. They’re flat glass!”

“There’s balconies on the top floors. Easier there.” Steve did his best impression of a fish out of water. He would never understand spy stuff. It truly amazed him every time he heard about it.

They moved onto a different topic before he realized. The whole night was easy from then on, like old times almost. There was a steady flow of conversation, but no push to force it. Food wasn’t too bad either, even though they ended up throwing most of the French fries at each other with stupid smiles on their faces.

“We should do this again,” Steve said as they strolled back to the Tower in the cool night. Bucky nodded with what looked like a small smile tugging at his lips. Steve tried not to be too hopeful about it.

It sort of became a thing, not that they meant it to be. Suddenly every Wednesday night was reserved for Bucky and Steve, and for them only. ( _Clint tried to join onto a trip to a movie they were going to see, and Steve was all for it. The more the merrier, he thought. But when he came back into the room after getting a glass of water, Clint was rubbing his ear with both Natasha and Bucky giving him annoyed looks. He didn’t seem to want to join after that, which was also fine._ ) They went to anything that seemed interesting, baseball games, museums, parks, festivals, anything at all.

“Where are you guys going this week?” Natasha asked as she dangled her feet off of the counter, swinging them slowly.

“Some gallery a few blocks away from the park,” Steve responded as he finished the dishes up.

Tony groaned from where he was sitting on a stool in front of the island. “Old men going out on their old men dates. Why don’t you guys go somewhere fun?” Steve felt his cheeks go hot, but he didn’t respond other than shaking his head. “Come on, Red Scare. You can’t actually like going to go art galleries and plays and sad, pathetic foreign movies every week.”

“The Red Scare was in America. I was in the Soviet Union. Why would I be Red Scare? Communists weren’t afraid of other communists,” Bucky mumbled and looked up from where he was leaning on the wall near the fridge. “Also, not everyone needs strippers to have fun, Stark.”

“So, you’re telling me that you actually enjoy going out with Capsicle to his senior citizen club extracurricular activities?”

Bucky looked over to where Steve was trying to ignore the entire conversation, even if he was failing pretty badly, drying the last of the dishes. He could see the blush reaching the back of Steve’s neck, probably still there from the date comment. “Yeah,” he muttered, walking past where Tony was sitting to smack him on the back of the head. “I really do.”

***

Wednesdays were blissful, always. There never seemed to be a bad day on Wednesdays now. Thursdays were usually pretty good, too. Friday through Tuesday, though, were not good- usually. Bucky was plagued by nightmares. Sometimes he could go a few weeks without a single one, but some weeks he got them two or three nights in a row, always Sunday through Tuesday for some reason. They were violent, his nightmares. He woke up screaming, with the shakes as he ripped his pillows in half. He would toss and turn for hours, sweating through his sheets until his own shouts woke him up or someone else did.

Steve knew it was going to be a bad night the second he woke up, knew it somewhere deep in his bones. Bucky had been in and out of trances most of the day. It was a sign that he was starting to remember. Bucky’s therapist told Steve not to worry too much when he got like this. He should give him some space, don’t bother him unless he got aggressive or too agitated. It was agonizing just sitting there, though. ( _All he wanted to do was help._ )

Steve stayed up later when Bucky had his bad days. He figured it was easier to stay awake and focused when he needed to wake Bucky up later that night instead of trying to do it while confused and in a haze. It was just around his fifth infomercial when he started hearing the groaning. He shut off the TV and walked slowly to where Bucky’s room was, arriving just in time for the first scream.

He put a hand on Bucky’s right shoulder gently, speaking at a normal volume at first. “Hey, Bucky. It’s Steve. Wake up.” He kept saying some variation of this, volume a little higher every time, and Bucky woke up right before Steve needed to shout. Bucky scrambled up to the headboard, wild gaze flicking around the room. Steve watched as clarity slowly came back to him. “Hey, it’s just me. Just Steve. You’re safe. Do you know where you are?” Bucky nodded and muttered something about the Tower. Steve nodded in response.

Steve was about to remove to his hand when Bucky quickly latched on with his metal one, keeping Steve’s hand trapped to his shoulder. “Buck?”

Bucky looked up at him, eyes still a little paranoid from whatever was going on inside his head. It almost seemed as if he was looking through him. ( _Sometimes Steve wondered if Bucky still saw the old Steve- saw him as the man before the ice, the man before war. If he did, he wouldn’t feel so bad for seeing the Bucky before the fall so often these days._ ) “Stay,” Bucky muttered. “Please.”

Steve swallowed thickly and gave a sharp nod. “Okay,” he responded. “Yeah, okay.” Bucky shuffled further up the bed, leaving the space open to his left. “You want me-“ Steve pointed to the wall, expecting Bucky to want him closer to the door ( _closer to an enemy if they were to enter. Steve would always protect him. He’d die for him. He knew that._ ) Bucky nodded and gently pulled on Steve’s arm to crawl over him and pushed him towards the corner. Steve settled quickly onto his back. Bucky watched him for a second in the dim light of the moon before settling onto his side, face nestled into the crook of Steve’s neck. He settled his arm across the blond’s chest, pulling him flush against him. Steve tensed up, forgetting to breathe.

“Relax, Stevie,” Bucky said with his voice mumbled from being pressed into his skin. Steve could feel the brush of his lips on his throat. ( _Right, relax._ ) He breathed in and then exhaled, and his muscles released as the air left him. He tried to ignore the tingling where Bucky’s hand rested over his ribs, like he didn’t know what was there. All things considered, it was the best he’d slept since coming out of the ice.

***

On the other hand, Steve didn’t wake up screaming- he never once had, not even when his fevers were bad enough to cause hallucinations. He didn’t shake or grit his teeth throughout the night. It was much harder to tell when it was necessary to wake him up. Sam had an inkling that Steve had night terrors, but he could never tell when they happened. The guy slept like a log the entire night. Sam never knew if he should shake him awake or not. 

Bucky knew, though. Steve was always on his back when it happened, the sleeping corpse pose. It was kind of ironic, really. His breath was the first sign. His breathing would go from the deep breaths to ragged and quick. Steve tensed up tight when they started, too. His muscles would stay like that the entire night, like he was readying himself for some sort of impact. He would wake up with sore muscles and aches all the way to his toes.

( _Steve was cold all of a sudden. So, so cold. He tried to look around to see what was causing the ice in his core, but he couldn’t see anything because snow was everywhere. That must be it. Where was he? He saw a plane and walked over to it, dusting off the snow on the side. _Valkyrie_ , it read. He didn’t know why, but he climbed on board, going over to where the controls were. _Steve, can you hear me? Steve? Can you hear me, Steve? Where are you? Steve?_ That was such a pretty voice. Why were they worried? Steve was right here. He tried to tell them that, but the controls wouldn’t work. They were stuck pointing down. “Steve,” someone said behind him. He turned around to see a figure in black, face hard and mean. The figure lifted up his arm. Was it made of metal? No, Steve thought. That was impossible. It must be some sort of armor. He blinked, and Bucky was standing there. His blue jacket still crisp with his sniper rifle hanging from his shoulder. He tried to reach out to him, say his name, but suddenly the back of the plane flew open. When had they gotten into the air? Bucky suddenly was holding onto the back, the air sucking him out. Steve tried to grab him, tried to save him. He tried to scream, tried to tell Bucky to grab his hand, but then he was sinking, sinking down into water. It was so cold. Where was he? Why was he so cold? What happened to-_ )

Bucky would always wake him up before it got too bad. His hand was warm on Steve’s cheek, the other pushing back hair from his face. “Steve,” Bucky muttered. “You with me, Stevie?” He nodded in response. “Good.” He scanned Steve’s face and the concern in his eyes with the warm comfort of his hands almost felt like it was Bucky before the war holding him.

Then the warmth started to move away, and Steve whimpered, fearing that any type of cold would seep back into his bones. “Stay,” he pleaded, now that he knew this was allowed. There was a small smile tugging at the corner of Bucky’s lips before he nodded. “Shove over,” he said, pushing Steve closer to the wall. Steve found it easier to fall back asleep with his face pillowed on the the brunet’s shoulder as his tender fingers dug into his own back. The pain eased from his muscles and he was lulled to sleep with the hum of a song he had long since forgotten.

Steve woke up to an empty bed, just like he always did. He didn’t mind, though, because, as he stretched his muscles, nothing hurt. The blond wandered into the kitchen where Bucky was leaning over the counter and staring at the coffee maker. “Mornin’,” Steve mumbled as he grabbed a bowl for cereal. Something was mumbled in response.

Steve was finishing pouring milk into his cheerios when Bucky decided he had enough caffeine for a little conversation. “What do you dream about?”

His spoon slipped from his hands and fell into the bowl with a loud clank. “What do you mean?” He dropped into the stool in front of the counter, staring intently into the bowl.

“Your nightmares.”

“Same as you, I guess.” Steve lifted a shoulder.

The other snorted. “I highly doubt that you dream about turnin’ back into a ghost assassin that kills your best friend on accident and then is hunted down by your own guilt and the American public.”

Steve looked up then. “You couldn’t kill me if you tried,” he said, not knowing how else to reply. Bucky shrugged, leaning his forearms on the counter in front of him. He was still waiting for the answer. “The fall, mostly,” Steve replied with a huff. He had to fight the urge to shrug again.

“What fall?”

“Yours in the mountains,” Steve looked back into his cereal. “And mine, into the ice.” He looked back up to see the same stormy eyes he would wake up from a fever to. ( _God, he missed those irises more than he missed the warmth sometimes._ ) It made it easier to wake up most days, knowing that he would see them again.

“Didn’t know it bothered you much. Never show it.”

Steve let out a sad chuckle. “I think when you plunge a plane into a frozen ocean, it’s bound to affect you somehow.”

Bucky looked like he was about to reply when JARVIS spoke overhead. “Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, your presence has been requested immediately in conference room C for an emergency meeting with the Avengers.” They quickly headed up.

Everyone was already there when they arrived. Coulson stood at the front of the room with a sullen look on his face. Clint had his face pressed to the table with a steaming cup of coffee next to him. Natasha didn’t look like she was any more awake. Steve vaguely remembered that they just got back from a mission somewhere in Sudan. Both Tony and Bruce were pointing to random equations on what looked like a napkin. Steve and Bucky took their seats, and Coulson cleared his throat to get the rest of them pay attention for the meeting to start.

“We have recently collected intel on two critical situations. The first is a terrorist attack that will take place in the Bangkok capital building in approximately 24 hours. We have already drawn battle plans that includes everyone, including Sergeant Barnes, whose clearance has been temporarily increased for this mission. The second situation is the kidnapping of twenty grade school children, including the daughter of the Speaker of the House. They have been gone for four and half hours, and we have pinpointed their location to a base in southern Virginia lead by HYDRA,” Coulson announced as he pulled up specs for all the plans and passed out mission details.

“So,” Natasha said, looking at the paper in her hands. “Are we going to split the team?”

Coulson sighed. “Unfortunately not. Because of the high amount of possible casualties in Bangkok, we have to send every available agent over to handle the situation immediately.”

“Who’s going after the children then?” Bruce asked.

“The president has asked for Captain Rogers to personally handle this mission because of his success rates on solo missions and on captive extraction,” Coulson said, looking down.

Everyone looked around at each other while Steve glanced over the base details, already feeling the unease growing within his gut. “You can’t send Steve on this mission alone. There’s enough HYDRA agents in that base to pose a problem for an entire SWAT team,” Natasha protested sharply.

Coulson nodded. “It will be a difficult mission, but the president is confident in his abilities.”

“You’re sending Steve out there to get his ass handed to him!” Tony cried out suddenly, shuffling through the papers with increasing agitation “The specs of this base show there is no way to get in quietly. Their form of security is steel doors thick enough to resist a pound of C4. I don’t think even I would be able to hack security because it’s so goddamn old. He’ll have to blow them out and he’ll immediately be made.” Steve read over the building details again, hoping Tony was wrong. Tony was never wrong about this stuff, but he still hoped.

“I recognize this fact, but SHIELD still believes that only Captain Rogers has the skillset to pull this mission off solo. Everyone else will be flying to Bangkok immediately.”

“Barnes,” Natasha growled out. Bucky nodded, and Steve started to look around the room as the commotion grew.

“You guys still got rules about soulmates?” Bucky asked. He was leaned back in his chair, like this was a casual conversation. “Back during the war, if you were drafted, your soulmate could say no to it for you. I mean, that’s why they went for the young men, hoping they weren’t mated already.”

“I don’t understand-” Coulson started, obviously confused.

Bucky sneered, standing up. “Steve’s my soulmate, asshole. No way in hell I’m letting you fuckers send him on this suicide mission.”

Suddenly, the room grew too hot for Steve to breathe, and he felt all the blood drain from his face. ( _He hid it so well. There was no way he could have known._ ) “Buck-” he remembers saying, but suddenly he was looking back down at the papers in his hands, knowing everything he was really losing with this mission. ( _How did he know?_ )

“Unfortunately, Sergeant Barnes,” Coulson started, voice tighter than before. “We do not have those types of rules anymore. Only Captain Rogers can choose to deny this mission, but I urge you, Captain, to realize what is at stake here.”

“Don’t take it, Steve,” Clint said quickly, and everyone simultaneously agreed with him.

He looked down to see a picture of a smiling little girl. She had brown hair and blue eyes, and the same nose as Peggy Carter. ( _Peggy was the prettiest girl he ever laid eyes on._ ) “Everyone leave,” Steve muttered. “You all have a mission to get ready for.”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky said in the most broken voice Steve has heard this century. He couldn’t look up at him. All he did was shake his head as he continued to look down at the picture of the little girl. They all shuffled out quietly as Steve tried to decide if he wanted to vomit or sob.

“Do you accept the mission, Captain?” Coulson asked.

“What are my chances?” Steve asked. “Of saving these kids? What are they?”

“Analysts say you have a 54% chance of completing the mission successfully,” Coulson stated. “A full SWAT team has less than a 20% chance.”

“And of surviving?” 

There was a moment of thick silence, and then Coulson muttered, “Less than 13%.” 

Steve nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’ve done more with worse,” he mumbled, then went to suit up. Bucky was waiting for him, looking down at a semi-automatic in his hands. Steve briefly wondered if he was going to shoot him with it, but quickly brushed those thoughts away when he remembered the soothing hands on the back of his neck from the night before.

“You’re taking it.” It wasn’t a question, so Steve didn’t say anything as he started pulling on his gear. “This sounds like a trap, Steve. They know your MO. They know the one thing you won’t say no to is a bunch of kidnapped kids.” Bucky’s voice was quiet, like he wasn’t really trying to talk to anyone right now, only himself.

“Someone has to save them,” Steve responded, just as quiet.

“Why does it have to be you?” Bucky’s voice grew louder. “Why is it always you puttin’ your life on the line? Let someone else take their turn! Let someone else be a hero for once! Jesus, why do I always gotta be the one worryin’ you’re not comin’ home?”

“I’m going to come home, Buck,” Steve turned around, stealth suit already on with the shield stuck to his back. He was pulling on his gloves as Bucky looked up at him, sadness in his eyes.

“You don’t know that,” he whispered.

Steve slipped a hand around the back of Bucky’s neck. He curled his fingers into the hair there. Bucky closed his eyes. “No,” Steve said softly. “I don’t, but I’m gonna try, Bucky. I sure as hell am gonna try.”

Bucky stood up. His eyes were filled with so many questions, Steve could tell, but it seemed he didn’t know how to ask them. Steve stared right back, trying to memorize the planes of his face, the cut of his jaw, the way his hair fell over his face. He tried to memorize the glint of his eyes like it was the last time he was going to ever see it because it could be. The last time. Bucky nodded then, like he found the answer, his eyes going back to that guarded look he always had, and Steve immediately missed the look that brought him back to when they were two dumb kids making it in the Great Depression, a look that told him they were going to make it no matter what. Maybe Bucky couldn’t put up the act anymore. Maybe he lost his faith sometime around the same time Steve lost his, too. 

Bucky gathered Steve’s face into his hands before placing a firm kiss on his forehead. Steve closed his eyes. “You come back to me, you son of a bitch,” Bucky muttered into his skin with some sort of righteous fury. “You fucking come back home.” Steve nodded. It was all he could do.

The moment ended too soon as they were both ushered off onto their own planes, heading to opposite sides of the world. Steve looked out the back, one last time, seeing Bucky doing the same. He didn’t know what to do. Waving didn’t seem appropriate. He couldn’t muster up a smile if he tried. Remembering who he was, Steve gave a salute. He could barely feel the press of his hand against the cowl, but the way his heels clicked together seemed to be muscle memory older than himself. Bucky returned it, and Steve was transported back to the war when Bucky won medal after medal for valor, for bravery. ( _This was probably the bravest he ever had to be. They were going to be soldiers to the end. This is how they started, and this was going to be how they finished. Who would have known they would wind up this way? Steve thinks he always did._ ) He had to turn away before he would back out of the mission.

***

Tony was right. There was no easy way to enter, or a quiet one. So the entire base knew he was there the second that he had to blow the first door open. The first guards were easy to get rid of. Steve knew how to neutralize ten men quickly, using their fight or flight instinct against them, but the further he went into the base, the more exhausted he felt. It became harder to throw his shield, harder to throw punches that knocked them out on the first go.

He took hit after hit, but all he could think about were stormy blue eyes and a face that reminded him of Peggy Carter. He had to keep going, he told himself. Only a few more rooms, and he was there. Only a few more guards. Only a few more stairs. ( _It was always just a few more._ )

The guards got smarter the closer he got to the center of the base. They started to aim lower, where his shield didn’t cover. The first shot to his thigh went clean through, he knew that. He could feel it. But he swung his shield out and took out the two guards quickly before sucker-punching the third guard in the room in the gut. One more room, he told himself as he tried to keep weight off of his leg. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was making it hard to think, to focus. One more room.

He finally got there. The kids were all huddled into the center of the room, cowering together. Steve neutralized the guards in the room as quickly as he could, only getting a few jabs in the gut for his efforts. He ushered the kids out behind him as soon as he untied them all. ( _What kind of monsters did this to kids?_ )

It was so much harder to get the kids back out, he realized. His shield went to them before it went to him, leaving him exposed to everything full force. Knives, bullets, punches, it all came his way. The first stab to the gut made him stumble back. The first bullet to whiz by his face made him catch his breath. All he could think about were those eyes, though. ( _You have to get back to those eyes._ ) He screamed as a bullet ripped through his calf and another through his shoulder on his way down. Groaning, he stood back up, putting pressure everywhere he could, still ushering the kids away.

He could see the door. He told the kids to run, and they did. He saw them running into the plane as he took out another guard. Then, he heard the laugh. His heart sunk, and he immediately sent out apologies to wherever Bucky was. “Well, if it isn’t Captain America.” Steve turned around to see Crossbones with his gun aimed right at him. He only had enough time to pull his shield in front of him before the automatic rained bullets down on him. Just get to the plane, he told himself. Get to the plane.

He turned to run, keeping his protection at his back, but he couldn’t get very far before there was a foot slamming into his knee. He groaned as he hit the ground. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up before getting a kick in the ribs. ( _God, it _burned__.)

“Not so high and mighty now, huh, Captain?” Rumlow snarled, slashing Steve on the arm with his knife. Steve flung the shield, knocking his enemy onto his back before getting up as quick as he could to retreat. Brock aimed his gun from where he was on the ground, and his shot pierced through Steve’s side. He looked down, blood pooling from where his hand was holding the muddled flesh together. ( _His mark. It went through his mark. _Bucky_. Would Bucky be able to feel that? Oh god, those grey eyes and Peggy Carter’s smile and the kids and Sam and Natasha and Tony and Bruce. His friends. His team. His soul. Bucky. He promised to come back home. He had to get back home. Home home home home home-_ )

He pulled out his last grenade and threw it behind him before hurriedly stumbling back to the plane. He groaned as he made his way to the pilot’s chair. The kids were all huddled together off to his right. “Take us home, Jarvis,” he managed out, pushing tightly onto his wounds. 

“Yes, Captain,” was the reply. 

“Can you get me through to the team?” he asked. There was no reply, but he suddenly heard multiple voices over the speaker. He couldn’t really tell what each individual one was saying, but he suddenly felt at ease. “Guys,” he mumbled.

“Steve?” he heard Tony ask. “Steve, is that you?”

“Move,” he heard Bucky growl. He must be trying to get to the mic, Steve thought. “Steve?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied. “It’s me.”

“Are you okay?”

Steve looked down to the blood seeping through his uniform. Saw all the gashes and the bruises and the bullet holes that weren’t closing quickly enough. He looked at his hands that were covered in no one’s blood but his own, and thought about how everything was terribly unfair at this moment. “I had them on the ropes, I swear,” was all he could think to say.

“ _Steve_ -”

“I’m real sorry, Buck,” Steve said, his eyes slipping closed. “Really am. I’m sorry I kept so many things from you, but I was tryin’ to protect you. I don’t know what from. Maybe yourself. Maybe me. But I did it because I love you so much, so much it hurts. I shouldn’t have let you fall. Should’ve been me. I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

“No, no,” he heard. “None of that, doll. You ain’t done nothing wrong. I’m here in one piece, ain’t I? You just keep talkin’ to me, Stevie. You hear me? Keep talking to me.”

“I don’t think I can, Buck.”

“Yes, you can. Yes, you can, солнышко. Come on. Tell me a story. Tell me about old times. Just keep talkin’ to me, Stevie. _Please_.” ( _He sounded so scared, but at the same time Steve couldn’t feel anything over his own terror anymore._ )

“I don’t think I remember old times right now. Everythin’ hurts. I’m real tired, Buck.”

“Don’t you dare fall asleep, Steve. Don’t you dare. Stay awake, okay? Okay, doll? Stay with me.”

“I’m scared, Bucky,” Steve mumbled, as he eyes felt heavier every second. “I’m so scared.” ( _Is this what it feels like to actually die? He always had Bucky waiting for him on the other side, he thought. Not this time though. Maybe he would see Ma…_ )

“No, Радость моя. Don’t be scared. You’re going to be okay, Stevie. I’m right here, baby. You’re going to be okay. Just keep talking to me, Steve.”

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve muttered, as he felt the darkness finally creep out from the sides of his eyes. He could hear Bucky screaming his name. ( _This wasn’t the first time someone screamed his name while he was in the pilot seat, he remembered._ )

***

Steve woke up to white lights above him. He felt like he was floating. He must be dead.

***

The second time he woke up, he was in a white room, laying in a bed. He tried to look around, but his head was dizzy. Everything hurt. So he went back to sleep.

***

It was beeping the next time. Steve opened his eyes and was in the same white room. He finally had the strength to lift his head up a bit to look around. One of his eyes must have swollen shut because his vision was off, blurry, unfocused. He wondered if Sarah was around, Peggy, too maybe. But he didn’t see anyone. (It must be the eye. They had to be here. Where were they?) He was always told that his family was supposed to be there with you when you die. They were supposed to be with him.

( _No, no, no, no-_ ) He saw the state he was in, finally looking around. There were wires coming out from his body, needles everywhere. ( _This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. This isn’t right. Hell. He was in Hell all alone. This _wasn’t right_. Steve was good. He was a good man, a good soldier. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be alone._ ) Steve started to pull at the needles. He couldn’t stand Hell already. The darkness was better. He passed out again.

***

The next time he woke up, there was a woman standing there looking down at him. “Captain Rogers,” she said with a smile. ( _Oh god, she’s just like the last one. She’s going to tell him he lost time again._ ) Steve’s breathing picked up. ( _Fuck, why is everything so _wrong_? First he was in Hell, and now this? It was the ice all over again. He couldn’t do it again. He _couldn’t_. He was a good man….Wasn’t he?_ ) Steve pulled at the tubes coming out of his body, not being able to stand the idea of being more in the future, of being told that everyone was dead again, of being sick anymore. ( _Why couldn’t they just let him fucking die?_ ) The woman said something quickly before he blacked out.

***

Steve woke up for what felt like the fortieth time, sharp pains taking over every time that he took a breath. He hated this. He wanted it to be over. The needles weren’t a surprise this time, but when he tried to pull them out this time, he found his arms restrained. He tugged at them again, finding he couldn’t get loose. Panic started creeping up his spine. ( _Why couldn’t he get out? He was supposed to be strong. Hell wasn’t even giving him a chance. He just wanted the needles out. Get them out, get them out, get them out-_ )

“Captain Rogers,” someone said. “I’m going to need you to calm down.” Steve looked over to his side where a woman was standing there, messing with the tube in his arm. At least this time they didn’t try to pretend she was from the past. “We can’t release you from the restraints until we know that you won’t pull out your IV’s again.”

“Am I dead?” Steve croaked.

“No, Captain,” the woman responded with a sympathetic smile. “You are shockingly still alive.”

( _He’d rather be dead._ ) “What year is it?”

“2016,” the woman, who must be a nurse, responded, patting his arm quickly. “Someone will be in shortly to talk to you.” Steve nodded, still staring at the wall.

It was a few moments before Steve heard two people walk into the room. He didn’t bother to look over at the door, guessing it was going to be the doctors the nurse had mentioned earlier. ( _He still kept think that she was lying. That this wasn’t the right year. That he really must be dead. He’d never woken up in the hospital and have people tell him the truth._ ) “Steve,” a woman’s voice said in an almost whisper.

“Natasha,” he responded, not looking away from the wall. He didn’t want anyone to see him this way, so weak. He couldn’t even get out some pathetic hospital restraints. There was the sharp sting of tears brimming behind his eyes. ( _Some fucking hero. He must be a ghost._ )

The clicks of her heels got closer, and fingers stroked softly through his hair. He was probably disgusting, he remembered. Not that he cared that much. “When can we get these off of him?” Natasha asked the doctor, motioning towards the restraints.

“Unfortunately, we have no guarantee that Captain Rogers is mentally stable enough to not pull the IV’s out again,” the doctor responded quietly, as if Steve couldn’t hear him. “Until then, we’re going to have to keep them on in order to help the healing process go smoothly.”

“There will be people to stay with him,” she said shortly. “We’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

“With all due respect Agent Romanoff, while this isn’t a typical hospital, like all hospitals, we do not allow guests to stay around the clock in order to make sure the patient is properly rested and relaxed.”

There was a pause. Steve could almost hear Natasha’s glare sharpen. ( _She was so real._ ) “Do you really think a highly trained soldier, who has just been through the toughest missions of his life, who has already shown signs of extreme panic and anxiety, is going to be relaxed and rested while alone and restrained?”

The doctor cleared his throat. “I’ll see what I can do.” Steve heard him hurry away

The fingers in his hair continued as Natasha slipped further into his vision as she sat on the side of the bed. “How do you feel?”

Steve glanced over at her, taking in the details of her face that he could see. She had a cut on her forehead that was pulled together with butterfly bandages, but otherwise she looked the exact same. “I think I’m dead,” Steve said before looking back at the wall, not wanting to see his friend’s face drop with disappointment.

“Why do you think that?” Steve responded by pulling against the restraints, still unable to get out of them. He stared at the white walls Erskine promised he would never have to see again. “Ah,” she said. “They’re reinforced, made specifically to make sure that a supersoldier can’t get out if the hospital at the Tower needed to do surgery or something. Tony designed them.” ( _That didn’t make it better._ ) Natasha walked over to the window and pulled the blinds open. “And see? New York looks exactly the same.”

“I want to go home,” Steve said.

“Tony and Pepper are working on it right now.”

Steve shook his head, not knowing if the Tower was the home that he was talking about. “If I pass out again, will you be here when I wake up?” He didn’t see the response before he slipped back asleep.

***

The first thing he did when he felt himself edge back into consciousness was tug on the restraints on his arms that were still there. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, tugging on the restraints as hard as he could. He felt stitches and staples across his arms and torso start to get tighter. ( _Why couldn’t he get out? He wanted to get _out_._ )

A hand landed across his arm, right above where he felt the needle was, and another hand landed on his shoulder. “Steve, man, you need to relax.” It must be Sam. “They aren’t going to get rid of the these until you relax.”

“Get me out,” Steve muttered, still tugging. “Get me out. Get me out. Get me out.”

“Steve, hey,” Sam started to sound a little more panicked. “You need to calm down. Everything’s alright.” He started to put some more pressure onto Steve’s arm, trying to stop him from pulling even more. Blood started to ooze from where one of the bullet wounds in his shoulder opened up again.

Steve opened his eyes, and it only made it worse. ( _There were so many tubes, so many needles, so many fucking wires. He felt like a science experiment all over again. Why were they doing this to him? He just wanted them out. He wanted them all out._ )

“Nat!” Sam yelled, making Steve flinch as he stood up, grabbing Steve’s other arm. “Get Barnes! Steve, Steve, you need to listen to me. You need to calm down. Everything is okay. You need to relax.”

“Get them out,” Steve rasped. “Get them out! Get me out!”

He heard people rush around the room, but he couldn’t look away from the needles in his veins. ( _What were they putting in him? He couldn’t become another person again. Captain America was enough. Why wouldn’t they let him be Steve Rogers for a little bit? What were they doing to him? He didn’t want to be someone else again! Get them out get them out get them out getthemougethemoutgetthemout-_ )

“Wilson, move,” someone growled. Sam’s arm were taken off of Steve’s, and Steve started pulling all the harder against the arm restraints. He screwed his eyes shut. “Natalia, grab his hand. Wilson, the other.” Steve felt hands slip into his and he grabbed them onto them tight, hoping to ground himself somehow but all he could think about was the needles. “Stevie, hey, Steve, they’re off. Okay? They’re off,” the person said quietly while hands slipped onto the sides of his neck. Steve opened his eyes slowly after feeling the loops slip off his wrists, not being able to open one of his eyes fully.

Steve looked at the people in front of him. Sam was holding tightly onto one hand with tight features and wide eyes, while Natasha held onto the other, her face guarded. They were trying to make sure he wouldn’t pull his IV’s out again. ( _He wanted to._ ) 

Bucky was standing in front of both of them, his hands on Steve’s neck and his face more open than he had seen in awhile. “You with me, bärchen?” Bucky scratched his fingers at the base of Steve’s skull as he nodded in response. “Nat and Sam are gonna let go now. Promise you won’t pull out the needles. It’s just a saline drip, okay? Just to help you heal.” Steve nodded again with some reluctance, and Bucky turned to the others with a quick look. They released his arms, and Steve left them at his sides like they were weighing him down.

“I’ll go get the doctor,” Natasha said quickly before stepping out the room. Bucky looked at over Sam then, and Sam also left with a quick comment.

Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand slipped from his neck into his hand. Steve couldn’t help but squeeze it as he tried to steady his breathing. “How you doin’, punk? You’re panickin’ an awful lot.”

“Hospitals,” Steve mumbled, craning his neck to look down at his arms again.

“Hey,” Bucky said, regaining eye contact with Steve. “Just look at me, Stevie. It’s all okay. We’re going to get you out of here as soon as we can, okay?” Steve nodded. “Good. You comfortable?” Steve nodded again, but he wasn’t sure if comfortable was a thing he would use to describe himself right now.

“Are the kids okay?” It was the first question that came out once he could calm himself down. He needed something to ground himself, something to bring him back to the real world right now. 

“Everyone is fine. The Speaker of the House and the President send their thanks. I think they’re gonna give you another medal of some sort.” Bucky didn’t sound happy. He sounded tired, sounded like the world had drained him of everything he had.

“Your mission?”

“Finished in record time. Not very good terrorists. Bangkok didn’ even notice anythin’ was wrong.”

Steve nodded and stared at the white walls in front of him again. “How long have I been out?” Steve asked finally, not wanting to see the sadness in the other’s eyes.

“In and out for the last two weeks or so,” Bucky’s fingers scraped against the base of Steve’s skull again. He looked over at the brunet and regretted it. “Gave us quite a scare for a while. Doctor wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”

“Sorry,” Steve muttered, looking away again.

Bucky scoffed, leaning in close to Steve. “No, you’re not,” he muttered back before brushing a kiss against the other’s temple. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he said into Steve’s skin, almost like a threat, but Steve knew that it was more of dare. Steve closed his eyes, trying to drink in the moment between them.

Someone rushed into the room quickly, causing Steve to flinch away from Bucky. He heard the other man sigh as he turned towards to door. “Sergeant Barnes, you are not authorized to be in this hospital wing, and you certainly are not authorized to allow the removal of Captain Roger’s restraints,” the doctor Steve had seen earlier rushed out. Bucky just blinked at the doctor, not moving even a little bit. “So, I’m going to have to ask you to leave… Sir.”

Bucky scoffed at that. “No,” he said simply before turning back to Steve.

“Sergeant, you will leave of our own choice or I will have to call security,” the doctor threatened, though he didn’t sound all too threatening.

Steve could feel his heartbeat pick up so much he could practically hear it over the damn monitors. ( _Don’t take him away. I just got him back. Don’t take this moment. I thought I got to have a good thing again._ ) His hands started sweating, and he felt the needles sticking him everywhere start to itch. He wanted to get out.

“Shhhh, sweetie,” Bucky murmured into Steve’s jaw. “I’m not going anywhere. They can’t make me.”

“Sergeant-”

Bucky growled, pulling his face away from Steve’s and spinning toward the doctor again. “You can tell me to leave all you want, but we both know right now that I will be staying _here_ until Steve is released. We also both know that no amount of security short of the entire Avenger’s team, including Steve himself, is capable of stopping me when I’m motivated enough; and trust me, doctor, nothing motivates me more than him.”

The doctor sputtered for a second, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “You can’t just barge in here and go against hospital orders!”

Bucky stood up quickly. “You strapped a panicked war hero to a table knowin’ full well that he has a history of medical illness that give ‘im anxiety, even after havin’ several severe attacks and signs of increased depression, you let the restraints stay on. You refused to let friends and his _soulmate_ visit for a week and a half and you gave us zero information about his condition durin’ that week. You have violated both hospitals codes and codes of human decency, and if you even _think_ about removin’ me from this room and set Steve into another attack, I will release all this information to the press. You’ll be the talk of the town, doctor. Is that what you want? You will become the most hated man in the nation. Not only will you lose your medical license and become the laughin’ stalk of the medical community, but you will lose your reputation, your friends, your family, and become the guy known as the one who fucked up _Captain America_. And finally when you think your life is ruined enough, when you think people have finally stopped talkin’ about how much of a fuck up you are, you’ll be lucky if you don’t get a visit from a couple of Red Room graduates,” Bucky snarled out, not stepping too far away from the hospital bed even though Steve knew that he wanted to crowd the doctor, intimidate him a little bit.

“Leave ‘im alone, Bucky,” Steve muttered, trying to reach out for his hand.

“Nah,” Bucky said, still fuming. “This guy’s only heard half of what I have to say.”

“M tired,” Steve replied.

The brunette looked down at him. Steve looked so incredibly small in that moment that Bucky couldn’t bring himself to fight anymore. He just wanted his boy to rest so they could go home. The apartment in the Tower was too quiet and too small without his partner in crime around. “Yeah, baby. Alright,” he sighed, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. He smoothed his hand over the other’s head, combing through blonde hair. “I’ll be here, when you wake up,” he promised, and Steve finally felt like he could go to sleep and instead of feeling like he was dying.

***

The first thing Steve noticed when he woke up the next time was the fluffy head of hair right near his hip. There was a hand clutching tightly onto his own, and Steve felt like it was the only part of him that was warm. ( _Bucky_.) Steve squeezed the hand back with the strength that he had. His head felt clearer waking up this time. He felt like he could finally take in his surroundings for what they were and not what his mind tricked him into thinking. ( _I’m not being experimented on. They’re trying to help me. It’s just medicine._ )

His entire body hurt, he realized. Figures. He took quite the beating, and even supersoldiers can’t bounce back from multiple stab and bullets wounds without too much trouble. Nothing felt too sharp, though. It all felt like an old ache. Steve hoped that meant his body healed itself a lot while he was unconscious, not wanting to deal with recovering from more gut wounds.

“Morning, babydoll.” Bucky moved his head to where his cheek was resting against the bed so Steve could see his face.

“Hey,” Steve mumbled back. He let go of Bucky’s hand to skim his fingers across the other’s brow bone. Bucky purred in the back of his chest and Steve couldn’t help but chuckle even though his ribs didn’t seem to agree with it. “Tired? I bet you didn’t get much chance to go home and sleep.”

“You’re just so pretty I couldn’t look away, mi amor,” Bucky’s eyes closed as Steve traced over his eye lashes.

Steve chuffed. “I’m sure I look great right about now.”

“You’re always beautiful.”

“You’re always a sap.”

“Only for you,” Bucky smiled as his eyes fluttered back open. He sat up then, his arm coming to rest across Steve’s thighs, careful of the injuries. Steve could feel his face heat up, but told himself it was just because his body was getting used to the temperature of the hospital room. “We should talk,” Bucky stated, and Steve felt the smile slip off his face. “When we can get you home. Not here.”

Steve nodded. “When will that be?”

“Tony says he can convince the doctors to let you out by the end of tomorrow, probably.”

Steve swallowed and nodded. “Not any sooner?”

“Sorry, mo chuisle,” Bucky sat up. “When you go on suicide missions by yourself, you gotta stay in the hospital for bit.”

“It was for kids, Buck.”

Bucky scoffed. “Guess you’re feelin’ better. Can’t back away from a fight.” He shook his head, free hand coming to smooth Steve’s hair away from his face. “At least admit it was a trap. And stupid.”

“I admit nothing.”

“Because even HYDRA can’t beat the stupid out of you.”

“If you couldn’t, no one can.” Steve heard his heartbeat before he felt it, and wondered if he could swallow his tongue and pretend it was part of his injuries all along. “Sorry. That wasn’t fair.”

“Eh, most things aren’t.” Bucky didn’t seem to look too hurt over the comment. “I haven’t been through intense psychotherapy and psychiatry for a little comment like that to make me retrograde.”

“Still.” Steve closed his eyes. “It was uncalled for.”

“Nah,” Bucky said. “I started it. Besides, your comments are usually the tamest. Tony’s the one to look out for.” Steve snorted and thought better of it when the thread holding his ribs together pulled tight. Bucky wasn’t wrong, though. Tony always did have too much of a mouth on him. He started calling Steve Capsicle before his real name, and that was when they first met.

“I don’t remember what it’s like kissing you, but I remember wanting to kiss you when you laughed like that.” The stitches remained tight as Steve forgot how to breathe. He couldn’t help but wonder why Bucky was saying that right now.

“I don’t remember what it’s like either,” Steve admitted. Bucky blinked at him for a second, and Steve just wanted to split open and let Bucky have all of him. He just didn’t know if he knew how to do that anymore. He didn’t know if he knew how to share things, so cooped up in his own head for so long. “It was easier to, uh, forget those kinds of things. I woke up, and I just couldn’t- Everyone was gone, and I- I remember the ice. I remember the feeling of freezing.” ( _It was so unfair. He remembered that he was warm before the war. He just didn’t remember what it felt like at all. How terrible._ )

Steve couldn’t stomach looking at Bucky, seeing his face turn to something close to pity or disappointment. He couldn’t take it from anyone else, but if Bucky looked at him like that, he might implode.

Bucky did feel some pity. Not for Steve- for both of them, really. He thought of how cruel the universe must be to take these things from them. They were good men, and the universe took the best thing from both of them- took both of their lives along with it. It owed them both so much more than this. He moved to sit on the bed facing Steve who was still looking down at his hands. He leaned in slow to make sure his intentions were clear. It wasn’t a very passionate kiss, or a long one. Just simply a brush of the lips that they both had been waiting for far too long. ( _Steve could feel it down into his toes._ )

If the universe let Bucky keep this, for good this time, he could maybe call it even.

***

“So, you’re all good? Don’t need anything to drink or another pillow or anything?” Sam asked for the hundredth time.

“You fretted over me less the last time I got shot,” Steve mused as he was dotted over by his best friend while settling onto his bed.

Sam snorted. “The last time you kind of deserved it, and this time happens to be a lot worse, if you didn’t notice.”

“Five stab wounds to the torso with four everywhere else, six bullet wounds below the waist and four above, multiple fractured and broken bones, and not to mention regular bruises and lesions. Yeah, Sam, I happened to notice it was worse.”

“Just making sure. You can be really dense about these things, Mr.Jumping-out-a-plane-without -a-parachute-sounds-like-a-good-idea.”

“You sound like Bucky,” Steve sighed.

Sam glared at him. “Don’t compare me to _him_... But if there was anything us two could agree on, your health would be it.”

“I’m honored,” Steve put a hand over his heart to be extra dramatic. “But, if you don’t mind, I would really like to rest now.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Sam waved his hand, heading for the door. “You know how to reach me if you need me.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve called out after him.

Finally alone, he thought. The team had been fretting over him for the last 48 hours. Every other hour there was a different person coming to check on him, and twice now the entire team has come to visit at the same time. Apparently that was the only way the doctor would agree with letting him go the couple floors to his place, constant surveillance. He wasn’t going to do anything stupid, even though the hospital staff was convinced he was. He really did just want to sleep.

“Is there any reason that Sam hissed at me while he was leaving?” Steve looked up to see Bucky leaning against his doorway.

He shrugged. “He does that sometimes.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Bucky replied. “He only does that to me. I didn’t even know birds could hiss.” Steve shrugged again. “So, you not wantin’ anyone around, does that include me?”

“It never does.”

“Budge over, then.” Steve moved as best he could closer to the wall. His entire body still ached, but at least he wasn’t getting the stabbing pains that he usually did when he breathed. Bucky settled down onto his side, head resting against his metal arm. His fingers of his right arm were grazing the skin visible on Steve’s hip from where his shirt had ridden up. It tickled. Almost. “Glad to be back?” Bucky whispered. Steve nodded. “Good.”

“You should just sleep in here,” Steve blurted out before thinking better of it. He immediately wanted to sink into the bottom of the Tower and maybe become part of its foundation, never to be seen again. His tombstone would read **Here lies Steve Rogers. MIA after embarrassing himself, possibly to death.** Maybe he could pretend the concussion was talking. “Never mind. Don’t listen to me. I’m on drugs,” Steve said in hopes to save himself from this misery.

“We both know that you burn through those drugs in about an hour and a half,” Bucky responded easily. “I’m not entirely opposed to the idea, but we would have to talk first.”

Steve sighed. “Talk about what?”

“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”

Bucky was looking at him intently, and Steve just wanted to sigh out all the aches in his muscles. “I never meant to keep it to myself like some dirty secret,” Steve murmured, looking at the ceiling.

Bucky tsked, using his hand to tilt Steve’s face back towards him. “If you didn’t mean to keep it like some dirty secret, you probably shouldn’t have just told Barton a year after we moved in with each other. Besides, it’s not like you could keep a secret from me anyways.”

“Well, seeing as it didn’t come out until a couple weeks ago, I think I did a pretty good job,” Steve defied.

Bucky rolled his eyes, and Steve looked like he was squaring up for a fight. Bucky knew that he probably was in that big head of his. “You think I didn’ know? I’m not that dense, Солнышко, and you know that. Had an inkling for months. Seein’ my teeth marks on your ribs only proved what I already thought.”

“So you just kept it to _yourself_? And how do you know they’re yours? Everyone assumed they’re Peggy’s anyways.”

“When you’re a paranoid assassin gettin’ everythin’ blamed on you, you start to memorize everything about yourself. You could show me a strand of DNA and I would know if it’s mine. Teeth prints, fuck, of course I recognized it. Besides, I courted you, didn’t I? Not Peggy.” Bucky sounded almost like he wanted to stick his tongue out at Steve. “I mean, shit, Stevie. Out of both our lifetimes, you could court me every now and then. Always gotta do everything around here.”

Steve paled. “What?” ( _Why did all the information have to come out in life or death situations?_ )

“What?” Bucky echoed slightly confused.

“You were courting me? And you courted me back then?” Steve asked wishing that he could move onto his side to get a better look at Bucky’s face.

Realization dawned on Bucky’s face. “You didn’t know,” he stated. “Huh, that’s different.” Steve nodded. He had so many questions to ask. “Well, to answer some of your questions. Yes, I was courtin’ you, and not very subtly, either. Barton knew, so it’s kinda sad that you didn’t. And, I sure as hell was courtin’ you back then. Shit, asked you to live with me.”

“Oh my god,” Steve muttered, looking at the ceiling for some answers. “You were showing you could provide for me… Fuck.” He paused. “That’s why you didn’t like Peggy, isn’t it? You were courting me for _years_ and she was a… a threat.”

“Does this little revelation change anything about how you feel?” Bucky asked, moving his hand away from Steve’s skin.

Steve looked back over at Bucky. “No, course not, Buck,” he said. “I just thought you were givin’ a poor soldier some pity that night, letting me have something you knew I always wanted. Thought you were doing it to keep an eye on me. Keep me alive, not because you wanted to keep me.”

Bucky glared at where his hand was still skimming over a cut on Steve’s stomach. “You’re all I ever wanted,” he muttered. “When they...” He shut his eyes tight before opening them again. “When _HYDRA_ had me, in the beginnin’, I needed some more encouragement. It was early in the programming, so I got memories back quick, still had myself. But, uh, they told me about a boy out there with my mark. A boy that belonged to me. I guess we thought we were being secretive, but shit, everyone knew back then what we were to each other. And uh, they said this boy belonged to me and the missions were to protect him… protect you. Your mark was gone, so they never had to explain that I belonged to you, too.”

“Buck-“ Steve said.

“It was so easy,” Bucky whispered, sitting up and away from the other. “It was so fucking easy. All they had to do was dangle the idea of you in front of me and I did whatever the fuck they said. And shit, Steve, you thought you could hide that from me? You thought you could pretend it never fuckin’ happened when it was the one thing keepin’ me together through _that_. You must really think me a dumb fuckin’ fool.”

“No, Buck, that’s not-“

“Don’t give me that shit!” Bucky stood up quickly as Steve was struggling to sit up. He stormed over to the window of Steve’s room, chest heaving. His metal arm rested against the glass and he stared at the plates moving in his fingers. “Don’t tell me it was for my own good, okay?”

“It was--”

“Bullshit!” He whipped back around, and Steve hadn’t seen him this angry since the time Steve came home from a bar with a split lip. ( _Bucky knew it was a gay bar, knew that Steve had gotten in trouble because he was found on the wrong side of town. He had the decency not to say anything. But now Steve knows he was only angry because he thought Steve was stepping out on him._ ) “You didn’t tell me because you were fucking scared. Admit it! You were scared that--that I wasn’t going to fucking want you again! So you hid. Because that’s what you do, Steve. You’ll run into a fucking war, ready for battle but the second you have to face yourself and what you want, you don’t do a damn thing about it. You let it slip by and say shit like if it was meant to be then it would have happened. So don’t give me that bull about protectin’ me!”

Steve gaped at him for a minute. He didn’t know what to say. Even if he did, he didn’t know if he would be able to speak. The back of his eyes burned, and he wiped them with the back of his hand with too much of a struggle. ( _Get yourself together. No one wants to be with someone so fucking weak. You’re supposed to be strong, he told himself_ ) “I.” He sucked in a breath, hoping to stop the sobs that were bubbling behind his throat. It was going to pull out what was left of his stitches. “You left,” he finally said

Bucky pushed his hair out of his face with his right arm. “What?” he asked, not understanding

“I woke up from the ice and … was nothing for me here. But, I got you back. I fought for you. And you left me on that fucking riverbed. You left and every time I found you, you kept leaving. I chased you, and you kept running away! How could I think you still wanted me?” Steve heaved out a sob that shook his whole body. He gripped onto a nasty wound on his side in hopes that it would keep it together.

“Stevie,” Bucky sighed, coming back over to the bed. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“No.” Steve slapped away the hand that was reaching for his face. ( _He could wipe his own goddamn tears. He’s had enough of them to know how to do that._ ) “You don’t get to pull the same shit you just accused me of. You didn’ give me a fucking choice either. I would have- I would have done-” The sobs made his voice incomprehensible.

“I know, sweetie. I know,” Bucky murmured as he gathered Steve close to him. His fingers ran through the too-long hair on Steve’s neck as he continued to comfort the other man.

Steve gripped onto the back of Bucky’s shirt. He wanted to compose himself, but something was so soothing about rubbing tears and snot onto Bucky’s shoulder. “What did we do to deserve this? What did we do?”

“Nothin’, Steve. We didn’t do a goddamn thing.”

***

“I’m just saying that we should take it slow.”

“How slow?”

“Somewhere in between glacially and snail-like.”

“Bucky.”

“What?” Bucky held up his hands in defense, which didn’t do much with a spoon in one hand and a mouthful of cereal.

“Isn’t a little too late for that?” Steve asked from where he was sitting across the table. They’d decided to continue the conversation they needed to have about where this relationship was going to go, but in a less formal setting, days after their fight. Steve was feeling much better. His superficial wounds had all closed up and his bruised had healed. The only thing left was the muscular ache that came from recovery and a couple of the gunshot wounds that went all the way through.

Bucky shook his head and shoved more cereal in his mouth. “We’ve only slept in each other’s beds a handful of times and barely kissed like once.”

“Barely?”

“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky smirked. “If you call that a kiss, we’re gonna have a lot of fun teachin’ you what a mouth can really do.”

Steve looked him up and down slowly, taking in all his curves and edges, and then leaned in across the table slowly, licking his lips. “Like what?” He saw Bucky’s eyes dilate as he leaned in closer. His hand clenched onto the spoon tightly, and he was lucky it wasn’t his metal hand, or it would have bent. Steve chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You’re so fuckin’ easy.”

Bucky’s eyes widened as he fake gasped, a hand going over his heart. “How could you play a man like that? I’m warm-blooded, you know. I’ve got needs. You could kill a man talkin’ like that and then not followin’ through.”

“You’re the one wanting to go glacially slow, and now you’re talkin’ about blue balls. You really need to make a decision.” Steve shook his head as he stood up to put his dishes in the sink. He felt Bucky’s eyes track him all the way there.

He muttered something about how Steve could possibly know about blue balls, but chalked it up to Google and Tony. His eyes whipped back up when he saw Steve open the dishwasher. “Come on, babe,” he said as he looked the other up and down as Steve leaned over. ( _Still got it._ ) “Where’s your sense of excitement?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t you wanna get butterflies when I pick you up for dates and shit? Or get that sense of ‘is he going to kiss me now, what about now’? What about that tension that comes from havin’ to work for… what you want?”

Steve turned around. He cocked one of his eyebrows, questioning where Bucky was going with this, who really wasn’t helping. A slow smile spread across his face as he walked over to ( _his boyfriend? Lover? Soulmate?_ ) Bucky. “You want to do this right, huh? Court me properly for once?” He carded his fingers through Bucky’s hair as he nodded. Steve smirked as he leaned down until his breath was ghosting over the others. Bucky’s eyes dilated once more, and Steve batted his eyelashes knowing how it made him look with a pout. “Okay, _babe_. I can make you _work for it_.” He pressed a hot kiss onto the other’s cheek bone before standing and walking away.

“That would be much hotter without the limp!” Bucky called after him.

“You still watched!” He called back. ( _Definitely still got it._ )

***

Sam jogged along on the treadmill beside where Steve was doing some physical therapy exercises for his legs. “So, are you guys like dating now?” Steve shrugged. “Gross.”

Steve chuckled. “Why is that gross?”

“It’s like watching my grandma date, Steve. Yeah, it’s kinda cute because old people couples are cute, but no one really wants to think about it beyond that.”

“I’m not your grandmother.”

Sam huffed. “I know that. I’m saying that’s what it’s like.”

“Well, both of us certainly are much younger than your grandma,” Steve said. “Physically, I guess. And why is your grandma dating anyways? She’s been married for almost as long as I’ve been alive.”

“Okay,” Sam groaned. “Move on from the grandma thing. It was a metaphor for-”

“Simile.”

“Whatever.” He let out another groan. “I was joking. I was just comparing it to how it’s going to be gross to watch you date someone.”

“I’ve watched you date multiple people, and it wasn’t gross for me. I was glad to see you putting yourself out there. I was happy that you were happy.”

Sam slowed the treadmill to a walk. “Ugh. Can you not be a good person for, like, three minutes?” Steve shrugged again. “How is this thing going to work, anyway? You two live with each other, and he practically keeps you alive. That’s enough to be married in some states.”

“We’re just going to date. Take things slow. It would be weird to pick things up where they left off back then, you know? We’re different people now, and we’ve been through a lot without each other.”

“Oh my god,” Sam said, stopping on the treadmill. “Oh. My. God,” he repeated more dramatically. “Did you guys actually admit that you’ve been through traumatic events and need time to recover? Are you actually making a good psychological decision for yourself? I need to call CNN. This is groundbreaking news! I need to call the doctor. The drugs have obviously gone to your head!”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” Steve replied, rolling his eyes.

“So when’s your first date then?”

“Tonight.”

***

They were sitting in the back corner of a little Italian restaurants a few blocks away from the Tower, and Steve couldn’t help but fidget. He didn’t know why, but he’s had butterflies in his stomach all day. This was Bucky, he thought. They had already been through hell together. He had no reason to be nervous.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Bucky asked, not even looking up from his menu.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Steve replied. Bucky just looked at him for a second before folding his menu and resting his hands on top of it, gaze steady. Steve sighed and then shrugged. “It’s nothing, really,” Steve repeated. Bucky just raised an eyebrow. “Honest.”

Bucky huffed. “Well, how about this, pause the date for a second, and just tell me as one best friend to another. Steve Rogers to his best pal Bucky Barnes, and not to his date Bucky.”

“You’re the same person, Buck,” Steve laughed. Bucky just shrugged. 

“Sure, but not right now. The date’s paused, so come on and spill before your date gets back.” Steve couldn’t help but smile at the cocky grin that was on Bucky’s face. He mumbled something with a blush creeping up his neck. “Gotta speak up, Stevie. Can’t hear ya,” Buck practically sang. 

The blush finally reached the tips of Steve’s ears. “I ain’t never been on a date is all,” he muttered. Bucky looked like he was going to argue for a second. “At least not one that I knew was a date.”

Bucky’s features softened, and a small, little smile tipped up the corners of his mouth. “So you’re nervous?” Steve nodded. “Well, shit, Stevie, everyone gets nervous on their first date. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

Steve shrugged again. “Just don’t know what to do is all,” he muttered.

Bucky chuckled. “Ya just talk to the fella. Talk about what you like and what he likes and find stuff you both like, and then maybe you’ll like ‘im. Ain’t that hard, I swear. Unless this fella of yours isn’t good lookin’.” Bucky raised an eyebrow and smirked. 

“Nah, he’s easy on the eyes,” Steve smiled.

“Then it’ll be easy. Talk to the guy and then maybe hold his hand or somethin’,” Bucky said, and Steve’s eyes flicked to where Bucky’s hand was resting palm up in the middle of the table. “But, I should run. Think your guy is comin’ back,” Bucky winked, and Steve just laughed, taking Bucky’s hand.

They were walking back to the Tower a few hours later, still holding hands, laughing at some story Steve was telling about the time Natasha tried to teach Clint some ballet lifts. “It was the funniest thing I ever saw, I swear to god,” Steve chuckled.

Their laughs died down as they walked into the Tower. “So,” Bucky asked as they entered the elevator. “That date of yours, how’d it go?” Steve peered over at him, not really catching on until he saw the hope in Bucky’s eyes.

“Went pretty good,” Steve replied, corners of his mouth twitching.

“Good enough for a second date you think? You can be honest with me, your best pal,” Bucky said. He stepped closer until they were practically touching. Steve nodded, not knowing what to do with his hands all of a sudden. “Good enough to give that poor fella a kiss?”

Steve felt his ears heat up. “Don’t know,” he shrugged. “Thought you told me to make him work for it.”

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded. He reached over and wrapped both his arms around Steve’s waist. Steve instantly responded by wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck. “I mean, if you really liked ‘im, I don’t see anythin’ wrong with throwin’ ‘im a bone.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmured as he leaned the rest of the way in. The kiss was almost sickening sweet. There was nothing hungry or desperate in it, like Steve guessed their first real kiss might be. It was just the continuation of their bodies already pressed so tightly together. Steve could smell Bucky’s cologne that he wore to cover up the faint smell of gun oil and steel that followed him around. ( _It didn’t really feel like a first kiss. He didn’t know what it felt like, burning maybe. He felt warm._ ) They pulled apart a little too soon but yet far too late. “I think Jarvis kept the doors closed until he knew we weren’t gonna make time in the elevator,” Bucky practically whispered.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, rubbing his nose against Bucky’s because he knew it was going to make his nose scrunch up. “Probably. He’s pretty smart.”

“Go home, punk,” Bucky smiled, pulling away. “I’m sure your best pal is waitin’ for you.”

***

Steve was sitting on the couch reading when Natasha strolled in. During his recovery, all of his friends seemed to take knocking or only coming in when invited very liberally. It seemed to taper off now that it was a month into the recovery and the doctor said as long as he slept every night he was going to heal fine, but Natasha still like to come in unannounced. Steve thinks maybe because she misses feeling sneaky.

She sat down where his feet were propped up and just looked at him for a second. Steve raised an eyebrow, and she sighed. “You’re the only one I trust to talk about this,” she mumbled after a second. Natasha wasn’t the mumbling time.

Steve closed his book and put it onto the table. “Do you want me to make some tea?”

“I’ll make it,” she responded before hopping him. She returned a few minutes later with two full mugs, setting one on the table for Steve as she sipped hers. “Clint asked me if I wanted a soulmark.”

“Yeah?” She nodded. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything,” she replied and looked away. “He asked me. I stared. Then I left.”

“Yikes.” Steve sucked in his breath. Natasha nodded, looking into her mug. She looked almost sad. “Did you not want to say anythin’?”

“What is there to say?” she scoffed with an eye roll.

Steve shrugged. “Most people usually go with yes or no, though I have heard variations of the sort.” She rolled her eyes again. “There’s no one way to answer, Nat. You just gotta be honest. Do you want a soulmark with Clint?”

“Soulmarks are an idea for children, Steve,” she nearly shouted. He looked at her again, slightly taken about by her sudden display of emotion. It wasn’t like Natasha to let her feelings get the better of her. She sunk into the couch. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It just doesn’t work, not for us.”

“Why not?”

“We’re spies. Spies don’t have ties to anything other than survival. You don’t keep people around unless they offer you something. The Red Room taught me that well enough.”

Steve blinked. “What do I offer you then? Or Bruce? Pepper even? I’m pretty sure none of us give you anythin’ you can’t get yourself. I think you’re only using the Red Room as an excuse.”

“That doesn’t change my career.”

“You know,” Steve started. “Clint came to me after that one game night. He asked me what it was like to have a soulmate and everythin’, and I answered as best I could. Told him how we did it in the past, courting and all that mess no one really does anymore because there’s no need these days. But he asked me if he would feel your pain. Wanted to know if he would, uh, feel you die. Because at the end of the day, that’s what he’s worried about. He just wants to know if you’re okay.”

“And if I’m not? What then? He wants to give me his _soul_ so he can feel me die?” She shook her head. “There’s no point if that’s the only reason.”

“Well, I’m sure he has other reasons, like, he loves you and stuff. Do you not love him back? That the your reason for saying no? Because that’s something you should tell him.”

Natasha looked over at him again. “I do. Love him, I mean. I just…” She groaned, and Steve thought maybe it was the least poised he has ever seen her. “Soulmarks mean you can’t leave.”

“Oh,” Steve said, realizing what was going on. He gave her a small smile then. “Nat, Clint _loves_ you. He never _wants_ to leave. That’s why he wants the soulmark. He _wants_ a forever with you. And if the only reason you’re saying no is because you think that he’s not going to love you anymore later, then you should talk to him about it.”

“He’s too naïve to know what forever means,” she sneered.

“No.” Steve shook his head. “He’s not. He knows what havin’ a soulmate means. He knows that it means he will never be able to leave you in a way. You’ll always be anchored to him, and him to you. He wants to know that fifty years down the line, he’ll still have you in some way, even if you never see each other, even if you’re off the grid.He wants a way to protect you, to watch out for you. If you don’t want that, you need to tell him.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I do want that.” Her voice was nearly a whisper, now.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“How could he want a forever with me, Steve?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking me that?” came the reply from the door. Natasha looked over to see Clint holding open the elevator. Steve could hear her curse about not knowing he was there. “Sorry, to, uh, interrupt, but I was looking for you and thought you would be here.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said. “Natasha was just coming to talk to you. Isn’t that right, Nat?”

She glared at him but picked herself up gracefully nonetheless. “I suppose I should let the fossil rest before the next tour group comes in. Send James my love,” she said as she stepped into the elevator with Clint. He just smiled at Steve and gave him a thumbs up.

***

Bucky was pretty strict with the whole going-slow thing. He was serious about doing it right this time. He was going to court the shit out of Steve. He decided the first time he saw that ring on Steve’s ribs.

He always stopped it when he thought it was going too far. It was sweet, Steve thought. But at the same time, it was annoying. Bucky always stopped hands from wandering too far and didn’t sleep in his bed too many nights in a row and didn’t try to show what he thought was too much PDA. Steve knew that it was because he was trying to treat him right, but they had been together four months now. In this century, that was enough time for someone to get married, and Steve was stuck with his boyfriend, who technically already carried his mark, in his bed three nights a week at the most.

Wednesday was still date night. Saturday too, if it was a good week. And Monday, if they missed a date night for a mission or if they were just itching to be alone with each other. It was one of those kinds of nights when they were just wandering around Central Park, holding hands and touching each other every few minutes just because they could. ( _They were allowed now. They weren’t going to get arrested. There wasn’t any more fear of people jumping out of the bushes to take them away from each other._ )

“You know, I got a mission comin’ up that will have me away for a few weeks,” Bucky said after a few minutes of silence. 

“I know,” Steve replied. 

“So, I was thinkin’, before I go, maybe we could go away for a bit. Just the two of us,” he mumbled, looking at the ground.

“Are you gettin’ shy right now?” Steve asked with a smile. “Worried I’m gonna say no?” Bucky pushed him, and Steve just laughed. “I don’t know, Buck. Who’s gonna be there to protect my modesty if it’s just you and me? I got a best friend who is very adamant that I take things slow with you, ya know. Don’t know how he will feel about this.”

“Shut up, ya punk,” Bucky couldn’t help smile as Steve was in hysterics. He pushed him again just for good measure. “Just thought it would be nice before real life catches back up with us. You’ve been healed for a month now. SHIELD is bound to start sendin’ ya on missions again.”

“Where we gonna go?” 

Bucky shrugged. “Where do you want to go?”

Steve thought about it for a second. “Mountains,” he finally replied. “New York is too flat, and we see the beach all the time. Let’s go see some mountains.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “Alright.”

They ended up in the Adirondacks three days later, settling into a cozy little cabin. “You certainly do work quick, Buck.” All he got in reply was a lift of Bucky’s metal shoulder as he dropped his stuff onto the bed. ( _The only bed. Steve didn’t want to hope too much, but he figures that since they were staying here a weekend together, he could hope a little._ )

“So,” Steve asked as he dropped onto the bed himself. “What’s the plan?” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him. “Everythin’ got to be in a plan for you? Don’t you like the surprises of life sometimes?”

“Never was a patient person,” Steve responded. “Always made you read the last page of those paperbacks to me first, remember?” 

“Yeah, I remember,” Bucky scoffed. “Annoyed the shit out of me, too. I actually like the suspense of gettin’ to the end, ya punk.” 

“Then why’d you do it?” 

“You really should stop bein’ surprised that I liked doin’ things for ya. Thought I made it pretty clear already that everythin’ back then was because of you.” Bucky rolled his eyes like he was having to explain things to a distracted child. 

Steve didn’t know what to say to that. Every time Bucky mentioned courting him in the past, it just reminded him of how wrapped up in his own head he was. ( _Everything in his head was always about Bucky. His sole focus was making him happy, and the entire time all Bucky was trying to do the same for Steve. The irony of them not realizing sooner._ ) “So… the plan is what exactly?” Steve asked. 

Bucky chuckled. “You really aren’t gonna let me surprise you?” 

“Surprises are for when you’re tryin’ to impress someone. You already got me, so no point really.”

“I got you, huh?” Bucky gave him his full attention now. 

Steve felt the tips of his ears go hot, and he couldn’t help but feel shy all of a sudden. “Yeah, Buck,” he said. “Got me as long as you want me.” 

Bucky nodded with a small smile. “Forever, then.” He turned around to look at the perimeters of the cabin. 

“Forever,” Steve mumbled. ( _He was warm all the way to his fingertips, and it was the first time in a while he couldn't remember what the cold felt like._ ) He shook his head trying to clear his mind of all the things that he wanted to say. ( _I love you. I’d die without you. Please don’t leave me again. Sometimes I think you’re more apart of me than you are yourself. Sometimes I think you’re the only part of me I like-_ ) “So, the plan. Do you, uh, have one?” 

“Course,” Bucky confirmed, running his hand over the door. He was probably checking for bugs, Steve thought. Old habits die hard, he supposed. 

“Do I get to know?” 

“Nah,” Bucky smirked over his shoulder. “I’m gonna force you to like surprises if it kills me.” Steve groaned. This could either end very well or very bad. 

It ended up being good. Bucky planned a hike into the mountains, and even came prepared for a picnic once they reached the summit. They probably could have climbed the mountain in an hour or two. During the war, they certainly had to climb higher faster, and these days, everything physical was a breeze for Steve. But, they took their time. Stopping at all the overlooks to really take in where they were. Steve brought his sketchbook along, so sometimes they would stop for half an hour while he did a rough sketch. 

At the end of the day, when they came back down, they cooked dinner in their little cabin, singing along to old disney songs. Bucky was very good at all the prep work, ( _Steve did not think it was healthy to be so interested in watching Bucky with a knife_ ) and Steve was pretty good at the main act. When Steve ever got too far off key, Bucky would snap at him with a towel he kept over his shoulder. Steve jumped every time, and always tried to kick back. 

They had dinner on the back porch and watched the very end of the sunset. 

But Bucky didn’t stop there. He took Steve out later that night to a clearing about thirty minute’s stroll away to star gaze. ( _Bucky was being so fucking sweet that Steve thought his teeth were going to rot out._ ) They were both laying on the grass. Bucky had both of his hands behind his head while Steve had both of them over his stomach. They weren’t touching, but for some reason, they felt closer now than ever before.

Bucky sucked in a breath. “I think-”

“You’ll hurt your head if you do that too much,” Steve interrupted. 

“Asshole,” Bucky turned his head to give Steve what he thinks was supposed to be a glare, but really it looked like Steve had eaten the last cookie. “Back to what I was sayin’. I think that if I were to go back in time to change anythin’-” ( _Oh no._ ) “-it would definitely be to go back and make time with you under the pier at Coney.” 

Steve couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Of all the things to change, you choose that?” He was still chuckling to himself. 

“Yeah, why not?” Bucky couldn’t really shrug with his hands like they were, but Steve knew he would if he could. “Always wanted to. Looked like it would be fun.” 

“Buck, you do know that you took dames under there, right?”

“I sometimes remember,” he replied. “But, it’s not the same, you know? Always wanted to take you down there.” 

Steve was still smiling wide. “I’ll take you on a nice date there for you birthday then.” 

“Yeah?” Bucky was smiling back.

“Yeah,” Steve turned to look at him. “I’ll even let you persuade me and everythin’. Let you think it’s part of your present or somethin’.” 

“I do like me a good chase,” Bucky replied. He stopped smiling then and his eyes traced over Steve’s body slowly. It almost looked like he was sizing Steve up. The blond couldn’t help but gulp a little. “I want to touch you.” Bucky’s voice was pitched low. 

“You know you can,” Steve replied, feeling the tension thick in the air. 

“No, Stevie,” Bucky moved quickly. He swung his legs over so that he was straddling Steve’s hips and slipped his hands under Steve’s shirt so they spanned the entire space of his abs and stomach. Steve reacted just as quickly with his hands moving to Bucky’s hips. He didn’t know why there. Maybe to help Bucky steady himself, but he knew in the back of his mind that Bucky was pure deadly grace. “I want to _touch_ you,” he repeated hotly into Steve’s ear. He couldn't but help and think that it sounded more like a growl. 

“I, uh, I…” Steve sucked in a breath when he felt Bucky ran his nails down his sides. “Yeah, I can- uh, that’s alright.” 

“Ya sure?” Bucky asked before he bit at Steve’s ear. 

Steve groaned. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure.” He could almost feel Bucky’s smirk against his jaw. 

Steve couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands. Bucky, however, was doing everything right with his and that was apparently everything. ( _It felt like he was on fire_.) His hands travelled everywhere he could touch, his abs, his sides, his pecs. Nothing seemed to be slowing him down any. 

Bucky scraped his teeth along Steve’s jaw and then licked his way into Steve’s mouth. ( _Kissing was good. Steve could do kissing._ ) One of Bucky’s hands went to the back of Steve’s head, and the other stayed on his stomach. Steve still couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands besides tighten his grip on Bucky’s hips. His head was starting to go foggy now that the slick heat of Bucky’s tongue kept running against his own. ( _Burning always did seem like more fun._ )

Bucky pulled away to press kisses along Steve’s face. “You’re nervous,” he said like this wasn’t the farthest they had gone since they started dating. “Why?” 

“I’m not,” Steve replied. It was getting harder to think the longer Bucky did that thing with his nails.

“Yes, you are.” Bucky pulled all the way back so Steve had to give him his full attention. “Tell me why. I know everyone says you’re a blushin’ virgin, but we both know only half of that statement is true.” Bucky ran his fingertips along Steve’s cheekbones probably to heighten his point. Steve was pretty sure it only made the blush worse. 

“It’s just, that, it’s, uh, been a while,” Steve muttered. “It’s been awhile since I’ve done…. this.” 

“How long?” 

“When was the last time we did? Forty-five or Forty-four?” 

“Shit, Stevie,” Bucky looked at him with disbelief. “No one since then?” Steve shook his head. “Why…” Bucky trailed off. Steve thinks he just started to realize maybe this wasn’t the best conversation to have when you were trying to get busy. 

Steve took Bucky’s left hand by the wrist and placed Bucky’s palm over the mark on his ribs. Bucky’s eyes widened. ( _Steve wanted to tell Bucky everything. He couldn’t ever look at another person that wasn’t him. Every time someone would mention going on a date his mark would burn like he was trying to be unfaithful to his one, true love. It made him feel like Bucky was still alive. It made him feel sick. It makes him sicker now that he knows his mark was right, and Bucky was alive the whole time._ )

Steve wanted to get back to what they were doing before. It felt good. This was making him sad. He wants to feel good right now instead. “I think I’m a little rusty,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “But they always said a good teacher does wonders.” 

He could tell that Bucky was trying to shake off whatever was going on inside his head then. “Expect me to be that teacher then?” 

Steve shrugged. “Figured you’d be the best teacher if the subject was what got you off. Hey, do you still like it when I bite your abs?” Steve didn’t wait for a response. Just leaned up to nip at Bucky through his shirt.

“Fuck, baby,” Bucky half groaned and half laughed. 

“We should probably get back to the cabin if you want this to go anywhere,” Steve said as he finally figured out what to do with his hands. Apparently touching Bucky was always the answer for that question. ( _His skin was so warm._ )

“Don’t want to make love under the stars?” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows lewdly. 

“More like don’t want our first time in 70 years with rocks sticking in my spine.” 

“It’s a 30 minute walk back though,” Bucky replied. “I don’t know if I can keep my hands off you that long, stud.” 

Steve flipped Bucky onto his back quickly. ( _Everyone seemed to forget that Steve had his own grace sometimes._ ) “I’ll race you. Winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser.” He pressed a hot kiss to Bucky’s throat before bolting. 

“Not fair!” He heard and couldn’t help but laugh. 

Steve rushed his way down the trail. His heart was thumping and he knew it wasn’t from the running. He could hear someone running behind him, but he didn’t turn to look. Steve was faster than Bucky usually, but when Steve was distracted and Bucky was motivated, anything could happen. He could almost feel the ghost of fingers on his back, so he tried to pick up his speed some more. 

He could see the cabin only meters away when he felt an arm wrap around his waist to pull him back. Steve found himself shoved against a tree before being kissed within an inch of his life. He tangled his hands into Bucky’s hair and pulled tight when Bucky palmed at his ass. Bucky bit at his bottom lip before pulling away and mumbling, “Shouldn’t play dirty, mon chou.” 

“I thought dirty was what we were aimin’ for here,” Steve groaned when Bucky started to suck a very impressive hickey onto his neck. 

Bucky ran his hands down the backs of Steve’ thighs before easily picking him up. Steve couldn’t help but be impressed at his strength. ( _Of course Bucky was strong. He always had been since the day he started carrying Steve’s heart around with him._ ) “This is very sexy,” Steve practically purred into Bucky’s ear before he licked around the shell. 

Bucky moaned. “If you keep doin’ shit like that, I am not responsible for when I drop your ass.” 

“Drop me and you aren’t gettin’ any,” Steve replied. 

“Suddenly I have the strength of a thousand men.” 

“Good,” Steve chuckled before sucking on Bucky’s adam’s apple. Steve found it very easy to do what he wanted when not having to worry about moving his legs any.

They both made it inside without injuries somehow, and Steve found himself dropped onto the bed. Bucky was standing at the end of it, just looking. A small smirk spread across his face. “So, since I won, is this the part where I get to do whatever I want to you?” 

“Technically we both made it to the cabin at the same time,” Steve responded, but didn’t protest as Bucky started to drape himself over him. 

“Shuddup,” Bucky mumbled with a smile. “Take your shirt off,” he added a second later. 

“Bossy,” Steve responded. “Take yours off, too.” 

They both made quick work of some layers, and Steve noticed the necklace around Bucky’s neck. ( _Soldiers to the end._ ) He wrapped the dog tags around his fingers to pull them closer. “How did you find these?” He whispered. He ran his fingers over the writing. _Steven Grant Rogers._ “I didn’t know you had them.”

“Nat found them in a HYDRA base and gave them back to me. Said I wasn’t a bonafide pinin’ old man unless I wore them everyday. Like you.” Bucky ran his fingers over his own name that rested over Steve’s sternum. 

“Never took them off,” Steve answered the unasked question. ( _He couldn’t. He couldn’t get rid of the last thing that he had of Bucky. Sometimes he thinks he would let them cut off his own flesh before they let them take these._ ) Steve pulled Bucky down by the tags to brush their lips together. “I love you,” he mumbled quietly before deepening the kiss. Bucky’s hand was resting over Steve’s heart, and they both seemed content to kiss like that for the time being.

“You’re not doin’ any of that touchin’ I thought I was promised earlier,” Steve said into Bucky’s cheekbone. 

“I hate that your dirty talk is such shit and still gets me goin,” Bucky groaned, but his hands started moving again. 

“Please,” Steve said, scratching down Bucky’s back. “I could be readin’ the Bible to you in a burlap sack and still get you goin’.” 

“That’s not a lie,” Bucky responded. He bit at one of Steve’s nipple, pulling a gasp from the blond. And suddenly, Steve lost all form of communication. All that was left was the sounds of gasps and groans and moans and some praises of God from both parties involved. 

Steve learned that Bucky was not kidding about learning what a mouth can really do, but then again Bucky learned that Steve might be rusty but still plenty skilled. Neither of them was left unsatisfied afterwards, but they decided maybe a couple more rounds were necessary to make sure the first one wasn’t just fluke. It wasn’t. 

Afterwards, Steve watched as Bucky got rid of their cleanup supplies and then fish out a cigarette from his bag. “Are you about to smoke?” Steve asked. “You’re ruinin’ my post-orgasm glow.” 

Bucky snorted. “Givin’ what decade we were born in, if I didn’ light up, it would ruin that post-orgasm glow. Man, the number of dames you would offend if you didn’ smoke after.” Bucky laid back down and then patted his own chest. “Come ‘ere,” he said. Steve huffed but threw himself over Bucky’s chest anyways. He thinks Bucky was his favorite pillow.

Steve left the silence hang in the air for a second. “What’s wrong?” he asked after a second. 

“Hm?” Bucky hummed. “Nothin’s wrong, doll. Would have to say this is the best I’ve felt in a long while.” 

“These days you only smoke when you’re nervous or upset. I can feel it anyways. So what’s wrong?”

Bucky stayed silent for a second. The only sound he made was him taking a deep drag. He blew the smoke out above them, and Steve watched as it floated around in the air before disappearing. “I want you to mark me again,” Bucky said. 

Steve came up on an elbow to look him the eye. Bucky’s eyes were trained on the ceiling as he continued to smoke. “What?” Steve asked. 

“I want your soul again,” Bucky said still not looking at him. ( _Steve wanted to plead for Bucky to look at him because sometimes the only way he knew he wasn’t dreaming was because he could never get the grey just right in Bucky’s eyes. He prayed he wasn’t dreaming._ )

“You never lost it, Buck,” Steve replied. 

“Feels like it sometimes,” Bucky muttered. “They took your mark from me. Sometimes it feel like they took all of you from me. Figured, if you gave me back the mark, you’d give back everythin’ else.” 

“Look at me, Bucky,” Steve asked. They made eye contact and Steve knew this was real. “You have me. Forever. Remember? I never stopped being yours. Not a second. HYDRA can never take us away from each other. Never. Okay? You want another mark, it’s yours. It’s always yours.” 

“I know you can’t, like, remark the same place. I know it won’t be the same.” 

“No, it won’t,” Steve agreed. He put his palm over Bucky’s heart to feel the steady beat. “I don’t want it to be anyways. I, uh, I marked you there because you used to swing your arm around me, remember? You would do the left arm because my right ear was the good one, and you wanted to make sure I was listenin’ to you. And I knew that if you were on my bad side it was because you wanted to tell me somethin’ I wouldn’t like. You would tell me, knowin’ I wouldn’t hear, and then you couldn’t be blamed for when I didn’ know. I marked the left so that whenever you were on my bad side, you always remembered I knew when you were pullin’ wool over my eyes. You used to tell me it would burn when you lied.”

“I didn’t know any of that,” Bucky said. 

“I never told you.” 

“Why are you tellin’ me now then?” 

“Because I ain’t hard of hearin’ anymore. And you don’t really swing your arm around me like I’m the 5’4 kid I used to be,” Steve answered. “Point is markin’ you in the same place doesn’ make sense. We aren’t those people anymore. Won’t ever be again. Don’t really know if I would ever want to be honestly. What matters is that we’re still here. We’re still together. And as long as my heart is beatin’, you got it, Buck. It’s yours. You already got half of me somewhere in there, and I would more than happy to mark you again as a reminder.” 

“I marked you there because I was always so worried about your heart and lungs givin’ out before. Didn’ know what I would do without you if that happened,” Bucky traced his fingers over the teeth prints on his ribs. “Guess you’re right though. Don’ have to worry about your heart quitin’ on ya.” 

“You can remark me, too. If you want.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Not tonight though, alright? We got the whole weekend to ourselves, and I think I need to do some more explorin’ to figure out where to put it.” Steve smiled when he saw the happiness reach Bucky’s eyes. They’re going to be fine. 

( _Steve already knew where he was going to put the mark. Over the right hipbone, so Bucky could always feel it with his real fingers when he wanted to feel Steve close to him. And, because once Steve watched a documentary about ancient humans and how the day they evolved to stand up right was the day they could start walking long distances. Steve figured Bucky already walked around the world twice to come home to him. To bring Steve his home back._ )

Bucky put his on Steve’s left forearm, the arm that carried the shield. It was to help Steve remember that Bucky was always going to be there to protect him. He wasn’t ever going to leave again. No one could make him. ( _Steve cried when he felt the once familiar flick of fire go down his spine. Bucky kissed away his tears, telling him that he loved him more than he thought possible, and suddenly Steve didn’t remember what ice felt like._ )

**Author's Note:**

> So this is officially the longest fic I have ever written, and it has taken me a lot longer than I ever imagined it would. I enjoyed ever minute of it though. Let me know if you want more parts to the series. I usually add on if people seem interested. You can always come talk stucky with me on my [tumblr](http://bagels-and-seagulls.tumblr.com/)


End file.
